“Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane. I think she might be up to something. There were two sisters, you know. Do you know, I envy you. “I feared we might have a fog. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then.
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